


Seven Days

by carolinagirl919



Category: Person of Interest (TV), Revenge (TV)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Crossover, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinagirl919/pseuds/carolinagirl919
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the course of a week, the relationship between Carter and Reese changes. This fic was inspired by Mary J. Blige's "Seven Days".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Are We Gonna Do?

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This is a song fic inspired by Mary J. Blige's "Seven Days". If you are not familiar with the song, I urge you to Google it and give it a listen. I hope you enjoy my interpretation of the song as it relates to our favorite couple. Happy reading!

This was a mistake.

That's all Joss could think over and over as she stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a large towel around her body, she walked over to the sink and wiped away the steam from the foggy mirror to take a good look at herself. Her hair was a tangled mess swept up into sloppy bun so it wouldn't get wet in the shower. Her lips were no longer swollen, but she still felt the tingle of his kisses. There were small love marks around her collarbone and on her shoulder from where John nipped her during the throes of passion. Her skin was positively glowing and she looked like a woman who had been well fucked.

This was a mistake.

She should be happy, hell giddy even. But she didn't feel that way. What she felt was anxiety and regret. _What in the hell were you thinking? There's no way this ends well and you know that_ , she admonished to her reflection. She turned on the water and began to brush her teeth with the spare new toothbrush she found stored away under his sink.

This was a mistake.

Hadn't this been what she wanted? For him to open up to her? To finally open up to him? In the heat of the moment, everything felt so right. She rinsed out her mouth and turned off the water, frantically turning the faucet as if she could just as easily turn off her thoughts. She took her hair out of the bun and finger combed her hair to look somewhat presentable. Lord knows the man ran his own fingers through it enough last night. She gave her reflection a final onceover before she walked out of the bathroom and towards his bed to find her clothes.

She smelled the welcoming aroma of coffee brewing and bacon frying. Instead of grumbling, her stomach flip-flopped at the mere thought of facing him and having breakfast together. She hoped he would still be sleeping, but no such luck. She plucked her bra and panties from the floor to put them on, leaving the towel lying across the foot of the bed. She searched around and finally found her sundress, sitting in a heap of coral fabric on the floor next to the floor to ceiling windows of his loft. She shivered at the memory of the cool glass against the heated skin of her bare back the night before.

She shook those memories away and slipped the dress over her head, thankful that it wasn't too wrinkled. _Where did I leave my shoes?_ She remembered kicking them off last night when they talked on the couch. She walked across his intentionally sparse loft to the living room area to find her wedge sandals and saw them strewn on the floor next to her purse. She dug inside her purse and inwardly cheered when she found a travel sized bottle of lotion inside. She quickly rubbed lotion over her arms and legs and tossed the bottle back inside her purse, reaching for one of her shoes. As she slipped on the first sandal, she heard him call out to her from the kitchen.

"You don't have to rush out of here, Joss."

Joss kept her back turned to the kitchen and released an awkward chuckle as her face flushed in embarrassment. That was exactly what she had intended to do. She wanted to leave as quickly as possible, needing space to think, but she had a feeling that he wouldn't let her leave that easily. She slipped on the other sandal and reluctantly made her way towards the kitchen. Sitting on one of the stools around the island, she eyed him as he moved around the kitchen.

John was shirtless and wore a pair of pajama bottoms as he walked around with bare feet. Joss watched the sinewy muscles of his back flex and contract as he reached up to remove plates and coffee mugs from a shelf in the cabinet. She noticed faint red scratches on his back. She wasn't the only one with marks. She felt her body heat up knowing they were there because of her.

She continued to watch John as he plated the bacon, eggs, and toast and poured a generous amount of coffee into two mugs. He grabbed the flatware from the drawer and placed a plate and mug in front of her, nodding his head at her as a nonverbal cue to dig in.

Problem was... she didn't really have an appetite and John taking a seat right next to her didn't help matters. She picked around the eggs and nibbled on her bacon, trying to come up with an excuse to leave. She didn't have one. Taylor was spending the summer with Paul and they were gone to see Paul's family in Connecticut for the week. She didn't have to go to work until later this afternoon. She really needed space right now to think─

"Something wrong with the food?" John asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"No."

He sighed in frustration and put his fork down as it landed with a loud clank against his plate. He turned to her and asked, "Do you want to talk about it, Joss?"

She continued to look down at her plate, pushing the scrambled eggs around. "Talk about what, John?"

He reached out to place his hand over hers, stopping her movements with the fork. He took the fork out of her hand and placed it on her plate, and turned the seat of her stool so that her body was facing him. She continued to look down, not quite ready to look at him.

"Joss, look at me." She finally looked up at him and saw the concern and confusion in his eyes. "We need to talk about it. About us."

"I know we do. It's just... Where do we go from here, John?"


	2. Monday, A Friend of Mine

**Seven days ago**

_Monday a friend of mine..._

Things had been slow so far with the numbers. A week ago, it seemed like the job was never ending with one number after another, one mysterious enemy after another. Sometimes, like Roger Murtaugh*, John felt like he was "too old for this shit". Car chases, bullets flying, explosions that had his ears ringing, and fist fights that had him bruised, battered, and sore for days. But then there were times, times very much like now, when things would slow down dramatically. No numbers. No threats. Simply radio silence from the machine. Which was odd since it was now the start of summer; things always seemed to pick up as the temperature increased, so maybe this was the calm before the storm. What that storm might be, John didn't know.

Normally, the inactivity would make him anxious and tense. John never did well with idle time and past experiences taught him to never stay in one place for too long or get too comfortable. He couldn't say he felt the same way nowadays. He'd been in New York City for over three years and he had definitely gotten comfortable. This was his home now and today he was actually enjoying the quiet day off by soaking up the sun at the park near his loft, participating in a long overdue rematch of Xiangqi with Mr. Han.

John had found a purpose. He had a job where he could actually use his lethal skills to save lives instead of take them. He managed to find the humanity buried deeply within him that he thought he'd long lost during his time in the CIA. And in the process of that, he found friends in the unlikeliest of places as well.

Harold Finch, who started off as his employer, soon became his partner and eventually became a friend he held dearly and cared about very much. The bond he shared with the quirky computer genius was a strong one, but not without it being tested a number of times through their years together.

Detective Lionel Fusco, who was once a dirty HR cop, had started off as an asset he blackmailed for information and assistance. Their tenuous relationship begrudgingly grew into a work relationship of… _mostly_ mutual respect and somehow developed into a friendship as well.

Sameen Shaw, his not so new anymore partner in vigilantism, was also a friend. Though neither of them would ever admit it, working together and having each other's backs during the more dangerous missions created a bond between the two of them. They were indeed the odd couple. Her personality may come off as grating, off-putting, and even bratty at times, but he knew he could rely on her to always tell the truth, even when he didn't want to hear it.

Detective Jocelyn Carter started out as an adversary of sorts, chasing him down as 'The Man in the Suit'. After she had inadvertently gotten him nearly killed by Agents Evans and Snow, he convinced her to help him and Finch with their not so legal endeavor. Their shaky partnership grew from there to friendship. Yes, she was a friend. He felt she was a friend in every sense of the word. He knew if he needed to, he could tell her anything and she would listen and understand. She kept him honest and she kept him on his toes. She was tough as nails, but had a heart of gold that always tried to see the best in everyone; even a drunk and dirty bum who beat up a bunch of punks on the train one night long ago.

But there were things that happened between the two of them that made him feel more than just platonic feelings for her. Their fallout over Leila's kidnapping and Szymanski getting shot. Riker's. Donnelly's death. The bomb vest. His self-imposed separation. Szymanski's and Beecher's deaths. Her demotion. Her distancing herself and declining his help. The entire HR ordeal. They'd been through so much and with every challenge thrown their way, their bond grew stronger and it felt like more than just a simple friendship. It was something deeper. And while those situations were serious and could have possibly torn them apart, they made it through mostly unscathed, and now had a newly found feeling of comfort with each other.

They still enjoyed their witty banter with each other. Her laugh was infectious and he enjoyed the way her entire face seemed to light up when she smiled, truly smiled. Or how her brows furrowed together in anger when he would do something stupid or risky. Even how she would roll her eyes after a snarky comment from him. He especially enjoyed how beautiful she looked when she was unaware of him watching her from afar. A couple of weeks ago, he watched her as she waited for him to show up and meet her about a number. She sat on the bench and leaned back, holding her face up to the sun, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth on her face as a small smile formed across her full lips. He envied her ability to enjoy something as simple as the rays of sun beaming against her skin.

She once defined their relationship as "whatever this is" and maybe she was right. Maybe this wasn't just an ordinary friendship that could be so easily defined.

"You haven't made a move yet, John. I sense there is something or someone on your mind?" asked Mr. Han.

Pulled from his thoughts, John looked into Mr. Han's clouded eyes, smiled, and replied, "Just trying to think twelve steps ahead instead of my usual ten."

Mr. Han let out a hearty chuckle. "I may not be able to see, but you should know by now that you can't get much past me. And I'm not just talking about our game. Is it about your lady friend you told me about during our last match?"

John finally moved a game piece on the board. "It's your move now Han," he said, ignoring the older man's question.

"That was an interesting maneuver," Mr. Han said with a chuckle, referring to John's non-answer and his move on the board as well.

"Take your time. I'm determined to win this round."

John watched as Mr. Han sat in silence, smiling as he contemplated his next move. Taking his eyes off his opponent, he scanned the park ─ old habits die hard ─ to stay aware of his surroundings. Sitting on blankets atop the green grass, was a group of mothers watching a play date among their toddlers. A few tables down from where he and Mr. Han sat were two elderly men playing a game of chess. Not too far from the south entrance of the park stood a tall, solidly built man ordering a sweet, frozen treat from the Italian Ice vendor. John thought he had the right idea since the weather today was hot and a bit muggy. He scanned his eyes toward the entrance and that's when he saw her entering the park, her stride full of the confidence and swagger that had been missing when she was demoted to Officer.

Joss. She was wearing her clothes for work, light gray slacks, pink sleeveless blouse, low sensible heels, and her Detective shield hung from a ball chain around her neck. She was back to being a detective. Had been for seven months now.

During the time when she decided to take on HR alone, he continued to offer his assistance wanting ─ no _needing ─_ her to accept his help. He was so damn worried for her and when things finally came to a head and he lost all ways to track and contact her, his heart dropped. She had gone and started a war between HR and the Russians. If anyone suspected she had anything to do with it, she was as good as dead. John stormed out of the library like a madman and headed straight to her house to look for her, only to discover she wasn't there. She told him to trust her to do what was right, and as much as he didn't want to let her go, he did.

He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally called him later that night. She had been parked down the street from Judge Monahan's house and witnessed a number of HR members, including Simmons and Quinn, entering his home. They were waiting for her to show up so they could kill her. She sounded so hopeless at that moment, as if everything she was working on would never come to fruition because she didn't know a judge who was clean. But he and Finch did.

John sent her an address and met her at the house of Judge Gates, one of the first few people he helped with Finch. She was able to get the warrant signed and with the help of the FBI, they made arrests that night. The fact that so many of HR's members had convened at Judge Monahan's house backfired since they were all in one place, making arrests easy. The trial for Quinn would be starting soon.

What was Joss doing here? He watched as she looked around a bit and walked towards the Italian Ice cart. She smiled at the tall man he noticed earlier and took a cup of the sweet treat he offered her. John watched as the mystery man gave her a one-armed hug and kept his arm around her shoulders, guiding her towards a nearby bench.

They seemed comfortable and very familiar with each other. As they took a seat, he was able to identify the man with her. Paul Carter.

* * *

Joss checked the time on her watch before entering the park. Paul had asked her to meet him here because he wanted to talk to her about Taylor. He assured her that it wasn't anything bad, but he wanted to speak to her face-to-face. She looked around and found him standing near the Italian Ice vendor. Walking towards him, she saw him smile at her and returned it with one of her own.

"Thanks for meeting me, Joss. I know you're on your lunch hour so I hope this makes up for it," Paul said as he handed her a cup of the icy treat. "Half cherry, half lemon. Your favorite."

She accepted the cup and plastic spoon. "You're right. This is my favorite. Did you get your usual half lime, half strawberry?"

"Yes, and if I remember correctly, you always used to eat half of mine," he replied jokingly.

She chuckled. "I like that combo, but not enough to eat a whole thing. And I never had to because you always ordered it."

He laughed and gave her a one-armed hug which she returned with her free arm. "Let's find somewhere to sit." Paul guided her to one of the benches nearby and they took a seat, enjoying their desert in silence for a few moments.

"So what's this about, Paul? You said you wanted to talk about Taylor," Joss asked, wanting to get things started. It was nice sitting here with Paul, walking down memory lane, but they were just that─ memories.

"I feel like Taylor and I have grown incredibly close over the past year. He's been staying over more often, more than just on the weekends. I wanted to see how you felt about him staying with me for the summer," he said tentatively, unsure of her response.

"I don't know, Paul. I mean, it's one thing to have a teenager around a few days a week, but do you think you can handle an entire summer? Are you sure you're ready for that? Is this what Taylor wants? Maybe I should talk to him first; see how he feels about it," she rattled on, as her anxiety increased about not having her son around as much as she was used to.

"Joss." He placed his hand on top of hers, before turning their hands over, locking her fingers with his. "I already spoke to Taylor about it. It was actually his idea. He wasn't sure if you'd be okay with it, so this is why I asked you to meet me here. I know Taylor is your baby boy, but he's mine too. He's _ours_. I know I'll never be able to make up for lost time, but I'm here now. He's becoming a young man and I need to be there for him and teach him to be a better man than I was."

Joss looked down at their hands and looked up at him, as her eyes began to fill with unshed tears. She knew he was right. Taylor was a good kid and that was due to how seriously she took her role as a mother. But there are some things that only a father can teach a young man and she knew that she couldn't provide that for Taylor. She had made a decision to let them have their long overdue father-son bonding time.

"Okay," she said softly.

Paul's face lit up with unadulterated joy. "Okay?"

She giggled as she saw a bit of the man she used to know shine through. "Yes, it's okay."

He leaned over to give her a light kiss on her forehead. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

* * *

John watched the two of them as they sat and talked on the bench and was itching to know what was being said. He wanted to listen in on their conversation, but thought better of it, especially since he was with Mr. Han. John saw that Paul and Joss were holding hands and witnessed Paul kissing her on the forehead. Were they working things out? Joss hadn't mentioned anything to him about it, but then again, she didn't talk about her ex-husband much at all.

Mr. Han finally made a move and John tried to focus more on the game instead of the formerly married couple sitting together on the other side of the park.

"Something has you distracted. I can feel it."

"I'm fine," John replied a little too quickly.

Mr. Han smiled another knowing smile and said nothing this time. John moved a game piece before looking back towards the bench only to discover they were no longer sitting there. They were walking together, side by side, in his direction towards the north entrance of the park. As they got closer, John knew that she had spotted him. He couldn't read her eyes, but she did look like she was shocked to see him there.

"Hi, John. It's a surprise to see you here. You look so... relaxed," she said with regard to his demeanor, not the fact that he wasn't wearing his standard black suit and white dress shirt.

"A man can't enjoy a day off?" John asked with a smirk. Joss simply grinned and ignored his question. "Where are my manners? Han, this is Detective Carter. Carter, this is Mr. Han."

Mr. Han held out his hand and Joss accepted it, giving it a firm shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Han."

"The pleasure is all mine. It's nice to finally meet the lady friend I've heard so much about."

John kept a neutral face, but Joss could see the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment. Keeping the conversation light, she asked, "So… what game are you two playing? It doesn't look like your average game of chess."

"Xiangqi," Mr. Han answered. "It's Chinese chess."

"Hopefully, John is better at this game than he is at pool."

John smirked. "That was one game, Joss. You should learn to let that go."

"We had that game, John."

"And we have our rematch against Shaw and Fusco, tonight. I'll redeem myself."

"Yeah? Well, bring your A-game." Remembering her manners, she introduced the former man of her life to the… _new_ man in her life. "This is my… this is Taylor's father, Paul. Paul, this is my friend John."

John shook Paul's extended hand reluctantly. "Are you the guy Taylor told me about?" Paul asked.

The question caught both John and Joss off guard. John figured that a non-answer was the best answer and before he could divert the conversation towards another topic, Joss cut in.

"What did Taylor tell you?" asked Joss, getting nervous about what it was that Paul knew.

"Just that there was a man that saved him a while back. He mentioned that John was a good friend of yours. I'm sorry if I got the story mixed up."

"No, no, I just… didn't think Taylor would have told you about that. And yes, this is the same person. Um… we should probably get going," she said, trying to mask her discomfort with a smile. "I _do_ have to get back to work and you promised me a ride back."

"It was good seeing you, John," Paul said, giving John another handshake.

"It was nice to meet you, Paul. See you tonight, Joss."

It was brief, but he saw it. A small cringe crossed her face before she covered it with a neutral mask. "Yeah, see you tonight." John watched as Paul and Joss walked away and left the park and continued to look until they turned the corner.

"So that's why you're distracted." Mr. Han stated matter-of-factly. "When are you going to tell her you're in love with her?"

* * *

"So what's the deal between the two of you?" Paul asked curiously.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Joss remarked as she fastened her seatbelt in the passenger seat next to him, waiting for him to start the car and take her back to the precinct.

"When you introduced me, you only introduced me as Taylor's father. Almost as if you didn't want him to know we used to be married. I mean, I don't care, I know we're not getting back together, but I just thought it was odd. Besides, you never told me about him, Taylor did. And it seemed like you didn't want him to know about me either. I mean, you barely remembered to introduce me. I should tell your mama," he joked as he started the car.

She chuckled and replied, "It wasn't like that. He already knows about you."

"Didn't seem that way to me. Listen Joss, I'm not here to jump on your case. When Taylor told me about him, he sounded like a good guy. You can date anyone you want. He seems like he's into you."

"Thanks for your permission and approval," she replied sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. " But we're _just friends_." Joss shot him a look that told him that was the end of their discussion.

Paul briefly cut his eyes in her direction. "Mmm hmm. Whatever." He smirked before getting in one last jab. "Who knew you'd be down with the swirl?"

"Shut-up and drive," she retorted with a small smile.

* * *

**Later that night**

Fusco hit the white cue ball with the pool stick sending it barreling towards the triangular group of game balls. The break shot caused striped and solid colored balls to scatter across the green felt of the billiards table. Four sets of eyes watched as they bounced around the table, but none of the balls fell in any of the side or corner pockets.

"Nice break, Lionel. I already feel a momentum shift," John goaded before he took a sip of beer from the bottle he'd been nursing for a while.

"But you should remember that the winners from last week take the first shot on the next game, John. Your tragic choke last week assured that would be us. We'll take solids," Shaw claimed before hitting the cue ball to knock a yellow ball in a corner pocket.

"Don't get too cocky, Sam. The game just started. There are plenty of ass whippings to go around tonight," Joss trash talked, backing up her pool partner. John, Joss, Shaw and Fusco had started a weekly Monday night ritual of competitive games of pool after saving the owner of this pool hall about a month ago.

Shaw looked up to see the cute bartender had arrived, setting up behind the counter to start his shift for the night. She smiled a knowing smile before replying, "I have a feeling Lionel and I are in for another win." She reached in her pocket and pulled out a few bills and handed them to Joss. "You mind getting me a double shot vodka cranberry?"

"What am I, your waitress?" Joss rolled her eyes and took the money. "There's an apple martini surcharge for this service."

"Help yourself, Carter. You could stand to loosen up." Shaw took another shot, knocking a solid red ball into the same corner pocket as the yellow ball. She purposely missed her third shot. "Your shot, John." She took a seat on one of the high-seat chairs against the wall and watched John eying Joss instead of lining up his next shot.

Fusco gave Shaw a curious look before walking over to her. "What are you doing? That was an easy shot," he whispered agitatedly.

Shaw nodded her head in Joss' direction. "You see that?"

Fusco turned to see the bartender flirting with Joss and saw her laughing and flirting back. "Yeah, so? Carter might get lucky tonight, so what?"

She sighed and shot him an annoyed glare. "You can't possibly be that clueless." He only looked at her in confusion prompting her to point out what she thought was the obvious. "Watch John."

They both watched as John walked around the pool table, to get a better angle for his first shot. The easiest option was the orange striped ball near a side pocket, a play that would require little effort from him. Just as he took the shot, the sound of Joss' laughter floated across the room. He took his eyes off the cue ball to look at Joss flirting with the bartender and ended up missing by a wide margin.

"Do you finally see what I see?" Shaw asked.

"I see John is off his game tonight."

Shaw resisted the urge to smack Fusco upside the head. "Yes," she replied through gritted teeth, "but did you see what or, I should say, _who_ caused it?"

"Carter?" he asked, with surprise. "I mean, sure those two might act like a married couple at times, but they're just friends. I mean, if they haven't gotten together by now, I figure they aren't getting together. You really think Wonderboy still has a thing for Carter?"

"Is water wet? Does the sun rise from the east and set in the west? Just pay closer attention. I'm usually right about these things." She took another look at John who was still focused on an oblivious Carter. "Just friends my ass..." she muttered.

Fusco walked to the pool table to take the next shot, talking trash to a distracted John who still watching Joss as she finally left the bar. Joss sauntered back over from the bar, drinks in hand. She handed Shaw her drink while taking a sip of her own.

"What did I miss?"

"John choking... _again_ ," Shaw replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

Joss turned to give John a questioning look. He gave a look of nonchalance, shrugging his shoulders before taking a final swig of his beer. She walked over to him and gently nudged him with her shoulder. "Come on, John. We can't lose to these two, two weeks in a row. You know we'll never hear the end of it."

She took a sip of her apple martini and sighed in satisfaction. It was just the right blend of sweet and tart and enough vodka to keep her happy. She raised her glass and nodded towards the bar. The bartender nodded back and gave her what John thought was an unusual look.

"What was that about?" John asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He went back to watching Shaw and Fusco bicker over who would take the next shot.

"Travis wants me to get Shaw to come over and talk to him."

"Shaw?"

"Yeah, I know. But you gotta give it to her; she's cute when she's not scowling or snarling."

John chuckled. "It's not that. It's just… he seemed to be more interested in you."

Joss laughed outright and John couldn't be more confused about what she found so funny. "He says my boyfriend scares him more than Shaw does."

That got John's attention. He looked at her. "Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he calls you 'Mr. Tall, Dark, and Menacing'. He's almost as bad as Fusco with the nicknames," she said with a chuckle. "I told him we're just friends but he isn't buying it."

She took another sip of the martini and looked up at him to gauge his reaction. When John looked at her, she saw that maybe he wasn't buying that either. Joss was held by his gaze and she felt like they were once again getting swept up into their own little world, until an unladylike shout of an expletive from Shaw broke them out of their reverie.

"Goddamn it Fusco! I told you the side pocket! Why did you think you could make that corner shot?"

"Hey listen, Pocket Commando, I've had just about enough of your crap. You're not the boss of me. I take the shots I want to take," Fusco shot back in irritation.

"Trouble in paradise for you two lovebirds?" John asked with a smirk.

Shaw gave him her harshest glare. "That's rich coming from _you_ , John."

Joss took another sip of her drink and put it down on a table nearby. "The tides are turning now, Shaw. It's time to show you amateurs how it's done." She grabbed a pool stick and walked over to the table. She made shot after shot, showing off her moves with fancy poses as her confidence grew.

John couldn't lie; he was definitely enjoying the show. He watched her hips switch left to right as she swaggered around the table to make different plays. He enjoyed the unobstructed view of her round backside as she bent over the table to make a complicated shot. He loved watching her move. The tide had definitely turned as Joss cleared the table during her run, but she soon came upon a roadblock with a complicated shot to sink the eight ball and end the game.

He watched as she bit her bottom lip and placed a hand on her hip as she studied the balls left on the table. The eight ball was flanked by two solid colored balls against the rail cushion of the table. She could try to hit one of the outside balls with the cue and bounce it out, hopefully getting it to roll into the pocket across from it. He could tell she wasn't sure if she could make the shot.

Joss looked at him with her large brown eyes and said, "Think you can close this out, old friend?"

John smiled warmly at her and moved to the table to take the shot.

* * *

Joss, John, Fusco, and Shaw walked out of the pool hall continuing to trash talk each other.

"I want a rematch. That game was ours to win," Shaw complained with a pout.

"We beat you guys fair and square. Even played another round to appease Fusco's 'best out of three' request. Just make sure you step your game up next week," Joss joked. "Oh, by the way… Travis says he wanted to talk to you before you left," she said to Shaw.

"About what?"

"I don't know, but you should go find out." Joss winked at her before turning to join John and Fusco on the sidewalk. Shaw turned on her heel and walked back into the pool hall, making a beeline towards the bar.

"Same time next week, guys?" Fusco asked.

"Yep," John replied. "Same time next week."

"See ya tomorrow, partner."

"Goodnight, Lionel. See ya tomorrow," Joss replied, watching Fusco walk down the block and around the corner to get to his car. She turned in the opposite direction to walk up the block to get to her car and felt John adjust his long strides to fall in step next to her.

They started to walk in their usual comfortable silence, but Joss' curiosity got the best of her, and she couldn't help but to ask something that had been on her mind since she saw John earlier today. "So when did you learn how to play Chinese chess?"

"Just something I picked up during my travels," he answered vaguely. Having a reason, albeit a rather weak one, he stepped out on faith and decided to invite her over. "I could teach you how to play."

She looked at him and smiled. "Yeah, I think that would be fun."

"You could come over. I'll cook dinner and we'll make it a game night."

"You'll cook?" she asked with a raised brow and a grin.

He gave one of his rare, genuine smiles. "Yes, I'll cook. Something quick and easy like fajitas."

"Well, I'll bring the tequila for margaritas."

"Sounds like a plan, Joss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Roger Murtaugh is a fictional character played by Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon movies.


	3. Tuesday, We Played A Game

**Six days ago**

_Tuesday, we played a game_

John woke up this morning with a start. He had a bad case of the nerves and he knew the reason why. It wasn't because of work or the fact that he had a feeling today would be another quiet day from the machine. It wasn't that at all.

He was nervous because he had invited Joss over for dinner and a game of Xiangqi later tonight. It wasn't the first time they'd hung out together and shared a meal, but it would be the first time she had been to his place. Was this a date? When he asked her over for dinner last night, it felt like he asked her out on a date, but did she see it that way? The butterflies in his stomach certainly said that he saw it that way. He got up, showered, and got dressed to start the day.

When John arrived at the library with his usual box of donut holes and carrier of coffee and Sencha green tea, he was greeted enthusiastically by Bear at the top of the stairs. He walked further into the library to see Shaw slumped over on the small sofa wearing dark sunglasses. Finch was in his usual place, seated in front of the many computer monitors sitting on his desk.

"Good morning, Finch. Shaw," John greeted them as he placed the pastry box and paper cups on the table. Shaw's only reply was a slight grumble.

"Good morning, Mr. Reese. I'm afraid that there isn't a new number today. The Machine has been eerily silent lately, but there doesn't appear to be anything wrong. I'm sure things will pick up soon." Finch turned towards Shaw and continued, "Hopefully the numbers will hold off until Miss Shaw recovers from her hangover."

Shaw frowned deeply and John was pretty sure her eyes were shooting daggers at Finch behind the dark glasses. "I'm not hung over, Finch. It's just... _really_ bright in here."

"Have too much fun with the barkeep last night?" John smirked.

Shaw groaned and flipped him the bird while sinking further into the couch, curling her body into a ball to lie down. "Go to hell, John."

Disgusted with the rude gesture, Finch turned away from Shaw to focus on the screens in front of him. Although there were no new numbers at the moment, he still had plenty of other things to tend to. "If anything comes up I'll give you a call, Mr. Reese," Finch promised.

John plucked a donut hole from the pastry box and popped it in his mouth before taking a sip of coffee. If there wasn't anything left to do for the morning, he may as well get what he needed to prepare dinner. Without another word, he left the library and headed to the market to purchase the necessary groceries.

* * *

Joss tapped her pen against her desk and tapped her foot impatiently. She ignored the annoyed glares Fusco shot in her direction. She checked her watch for what had to be the twentieth time today and saw that it was finally time to go. She stood up from her desk, gathered her things, and left the precinct in a hurry. To say she was a little anxious about seeing John tonight was an understatement. She felt like her stomach was literally in knots.

When John asked her to join him for a game night themed dinner at his place, Joss thought nothing of it. It was just going to be a fun night between friends while he taught her to play Chinese chess and they shared a good meal. After a few restless hours of tossing and turning in her bed last night, she had a nagging feeling that maybe he had asked her out on a date. It didn't seem that way to her at first, but after she had a chance to settle in and think about what had happened earlier that day she couldn't help but think that maybe it was a date.

She remembered how John's ears turned red when Mr. Han mentioned that he'd spoken of her before. She recalled how she hesitated to introduce Paul as her ex-husband. She lied to Paul when she denied his accusation of not wanting to truly introduce them to each other. She hadn't wanted to introduce him as her ex because she didn't know how much John had witnessed between the two of them. Subconsciously or not, she didn't want John to get the wrong idea about her and Paul. She wanted John to know that she was still very much available.

She then recalled the way the bartender, Travis, asked her why her "boyfriend" kept giving him the death glare every week. She claimed they were only friends, but he wasn't buying it. Travis had to have been the third or fourth person that day to insinuate something more between John and her than just friendship. Shaw had her own share of quips and in hindsight, the only reason she sent Joss to the bar last night was to get a reaction out of John.

She thought back on the way John looked at her last night when she relayed to John what the flirty barkeep had said about being scared of her big, scary boyfriend. He looked at her as if he wanted it to be true. And damn it, maybe she wanted it to be true, too. But was it worth it? They were in a good place right now. Even if the feelings were mutual, was their friendship worth risking over something that may not work? She barely got any rest last night and it was a miracle that she finally managed to fall asleep when she did.

Joss hopped in her car and headed home to freshen up and change from her work clothes. She wouldn't go overboard with her appearance, but if this did turn out to be a date, at least she'd be presentable. Who was she kidding? She wanted him to look at her the way he did the night they worked the Ian Murphy case or like last night when she cleared the pool table and won the game. She yearned to leave him wanting more.

* * *

The one thing John appreciated about the summer season is how flavorful, fresh, and vibrant the fruits and vegetables were. He'd just finished dicing the white onion, jalapeño peppers, and red tomatoes for the pico de gallo and was now roughly chopping the fresh cilantro he purchased from the market. After completing that task, he combined all the ingredients in a glass serving bowl, squeezed the juice of half a lime over the fresh salsa, seasoned it with sea salt and fresh cracked pepper, and gave it a good toss before covering it and storing it away in the fridge next to the guacamole he would serve with the fajitas later.

John turned back to the stove to check on the chicken and skirt steak cooking on the indoor grill. The skirt steak was a perfect medium rare so he removed it from the grill and placed it on a plate to set for a bit before cutting it into strips. The chicken needed to cook a little longer. He checked the time on the stove and saw that Joss should be arriving in a few minutes, which gave him time to heat up a large skillet coated with vegetable oil so that he could sauté the sliced onions and colorful trio of green, red, and yellow bell peppers.

With his busy schedule, he rarely had the chance to cook meals like this, and when he did, it was usually something simple and small enough for one. Cooking was calming for him. It was methodical, it was precise, and there was a challenge to it that stimulated him when he wasn't working. He also enjoyed the aroma from the food. It made his large, sparse, and overly spacious loft feel homey and cozy. He wanted his place to feel that way for Joss. He wanted her to feel welcome and so comfortable that she wouldn't want to leave.

The downside to all the delicious, mouth-watering smells was that they made him extremely ravenous. The aroma of the peppers and onions frying in the skillet made his stomach rumble and he hoped that Joss would not be running late tonight.

* * *

Joss took a deep breath and shook off her nerves before knocking on John's door. _This isn't a date_ , she reminded herself. _This is just dinner and a game night between friends, nothing more._ She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. _Why is it taking so long for him to answer the door?_ She knocked on the door again, harder this time.

John opened the door with his trademark smirk planted firmly across his beautiful face. "You know… You were knocking so hard on my door, I thought you were the police."

"Well, I _am_ a cop," she quipped with a smirk of her own. "You gonna let me in?"

"Got a warrant, Detective?" He was looking at her in that way again; the way he looked at her last night. The way she wanted him to look at her. Mission accomplished. She wondered if she was looking at him in the same way. She was starting to appreciate the casual look on him. Dark jeans, black polo shirt, dark shoes. He looked damn good.

She felt heat rush through her body, but quickly shook it off. "No, but I brought booze," she offered, holding up the brown paper bag.

"Well in that case, I guess you can come in," he teased as he opened the door wider and stepped aside to let her pass.

"Gee, I feel welcome already," she replied sarcastically as she stepped inside his loft. She felt his eyes on her with every step she took. "It smells so good in here. Is dinner ready yet?"

"Just about." He closed and locked the door before he took the bag from her hands and led her to the kitchen. "If you arrived any later, I would have started without you."

"Well that's just rude. I was under the impression that you were a gentleman," she replied with a sly smile.

His eyes twinkled in amusement as he gave her a wolfish smile. "We'll see if you were right or not." He placed the paper bag on the countertop of the kitchen island and began to remove its contents.

"Let's see what you brought. Coronas and…" He pulled the second item from the bag. "Don Julio silver tequila. Wow. You brought the good stuff. Plan on getting me drunk and taking advantage of me?"

She tried not to blush, but failed. "In your dreams, John." She reached past him to grab one of the bottles of beer, ignoring how good he smelled now that she was closer to him. "Where's your bottle opener?"

He opened one of the nearby drawers and removed the bottle opener. He reached for her bottle, brushing her hand lightly before taking it from her, removed the cap, and gave it back to her. Never once did he take his eyes off her. Joss could feel it again. That electric current between them. She was starting to get lost in his eyes and the rest of the world began to fade away leaving just the two of them alone in his loft. Damn him.

"So… did you need me to help with anything or are you gonna let me starve?" she asked with a chuckle. She needed to lighten the mood before things shifted into unknown territory. The banter and the flirting were what she knew and what she was comfortable with. Anything beyond that wasn't; no matter what her hormones were telling her.

He walked over to the stove and removed two smaller skillets from the oven. "I could use a hand. Can you take the sides out of the fridge for me and take them to the table? Try not to eat all the guacamole please."

She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of her. "John that was one time. And it was Shaw that ate most of it anyway. I swear, that woman has a tapeworm," Joss declared. She walked to the fridge and removed the pico de gallo, guacamole, sour cream, shredded lettuce, and shredded cheese. Cradling all the bowls and containers in her arms, she walked out of the kitchen to the sound of dinner sizzling on the hot skillets he had removed from the oven.

* * *

The minute Joss left the kitchen John grabbed one of the Coronas, popped the top, and took a long draw of the cold beer. He needed to get himself together. He knew she was coming over after work, but he didn't think she'd change clothes before she arrived. He expected to see her in her detective gear, ponytail, and low heels. He hadn't expected her to be in dark jeans that seemed to be painted on nor did he expect her to wear a yellow floral tank exposing the soft, glowing honeyed skin of her shoulders and toned arms.

Gone were the same old silver hoops and in were a dangly pair of gold earrings. No ponytail tonight. Her hair flowed in long loose waves down her back. The sensible shoes were gone and replaced by a pair of strappy sandals with a spiked heel. She was beautiful tonight and he couldn't stop gawking at her. He wasn't sure if his staring was making her uncomfortable or not, but watching her walk around wearing those jeans made him uncomfortable... very uncomfortable. He adjusted his pants and shook off his less than platonic thoughts of her.

 _This isn't a date_ , he reminded himself. It was just dinner and a few rounds of Xiangqi with a friend. He took another long draw from the beer bottle and took comfort in the lie.

* * *

After a very satisfying meal of fajitas and beer, Joss volunteered to clear the table. John declined her offer, but she insisted and promised that she wouldn't try to wash any dishes.

While Joss was in the kitchen, John set up the board and pieces for their Xiangqi lesson. He heard quite a few noises coming from the kitchen and he wondered what she was doing. Walking back to the kitchen he found her adding the finishing touches on their drinks adding a lime wedge to each.

"I didn't know if you wanted salt on the rim or not." Joss handed him one of the glasses.

"It's not a margarita without it," he answered in return. He took a sip of the drink and found it was surprisingly good. "You _are_ trying to get me drunk," he teased.

"Only so I can beat you at Xiangqi, not because I want to take advantage of you," she replied with a grin.

"To each his own," he said with a shrug and a smirk.

Joss rolled her eyes. "Let's get started, Mr. Happy." She walked out of the kitchen and back to the table.

John followed behind her, enjoying the view her fitted jeans and spiked heels provided. "You've been partners with Lionel too long, Joss. He's rubbing off on you; and not in a good way."

Her only reply was an amused snort before she took a seat at the table and waited for him to sit across from her. Once they were settled, John began to explain how to play the game.

"Similar to traditional chess, the game is like a battle between two armies. Where in chess, the goal is to capture the king, in Xiangqi, the goal is to capture the general."

He looked up to see Joss fully engrossed with the board. Happy she was still with him so far, he pointed to different game pieces on the board. "This is your general. It stays in this area of the board and it's called a palace. This piece is usually flanked by these pieces," he picked one up, "which are your advisors."

He went on to explain the other game pieces and the lines of the board. After a review between the two of them, he discussed the rules of the game and what moves were legal with each piece. After he was finished, he asked her if she had any questions.

"Yeah," she took a big gulp of her drink, "Can you bring the tequila in here? I think I'm gonna need it to get through this."

He laughed at the look of confusion and frustration on her beautiful face. She looked at him and smiled and he could see something in her eyes. She looked almost wistful when she looked at him. He wondered why. "What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing's wrong," she answered, unconsciously straightening her posture.

Not buying that lie, he urged on. "Why the look?"

"What look?"

He raised an eyebrow in reply and said nothing, hoping she'd just come out with it. He watched her as she avoided his gaze and finished off her drink.

"You should smile more. That's all," she confided in a soft voice. She finally looked at him again and gave him a small smile.

"I'll keep that in mind." He matched her smile with another one of his own and reached across the table to take her hand in his.

The spark he felt when they touched was electric. He knew she felt it too. He could hear her soft gasp and saw her tense, if only a little before she relaxed. Feeling the shift in the mood, he unwillingly released her hand. It wasn't the right time.

He wondered if there would ever be a time to tell her how he felt. When would there be a time when he felt that she would be receptive to it, if she ever would be? Could she look at him beyond their friendship? Would she want him as a lover?

His eyes drifted down to her full lips. Lord knows he wanted her. In the worst way. He took his eyes off her lips and back to her whiskey colored eyes. "Let me refill our drinks and we'll get started."

* * *

Joss felt more comfortable after their third match. She lost each game, but her gameplay was improving with each round. Not to mention the alcohol helped her to relax. She needed it. Especially after the moment when he reached across the table to hold her hand.

It was brief, but she felt it. The spark. It had always been there, but tonight it felt more powerful. When he reached for her hand, she had tensed, but immediately relaxed into his touch. She had been unable to hold in the gasp of surprise and she was sure he heard it. When he looked at her lips, it had taken every ounce of her self-control to not reach across the table, pull him by the collar, and kiss those beautiful lips of his.

He left the table to refill their drinks and she was thankful for the reprieve. She needed to get herself together. When he came back, the mood shifted once again. Back to her comfort zone. Back to being more than friends, but not quite lovers. However, she wasn't sure how much longer that would last...

"One more round?" John asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Nah, I've lost enough for one night," she responded.

"We could play something else," he said as he began to clear the game pieces from the board.

"What do you have? Monopoly? Scrabble? Both games have been known to break up marriages and families," she joked.

"Good thing we're not married," he replied with a smirk. "But I was thinking about something else." John stood from the table and walked to the living room area to put the game away in the drawer of the end table next to his leather couch.

Joss stood and followed him to the living room. "What'd you have in mind?"

"How about a good old-fashioned game of Truth or Dare?"

She giggled for a bit before she realized she was the only one laughing. "You're serious?"

"Got something to hide?" he asked with a smirk, feeling bolder than he ever had with her before.

"I'm the interrogator, John. You should be the one with something to hide."

"I'm an open book, Joss. Think you can handle that?"

She leisurely looked up and down his body before she replied, "I've never been one to back down from a challenge." She took a seat on the couch, crossed her legs, and leveled him with a look that told him that his challenge was accepted.

He could feel signs of arousal stirring in his pants. This was either going to turn out in his favor or backfire. He had to roll the dice and take that chance. "We'll see about that."

* * *

About an hour later, Joss sat on the couch next to John and stared at the nearly empty bottle of tequila sitting on the coffee table wondering how in the hell had things gotten to this point. She was sufficiently buzzed, but it seemed as if John was hardly affected. This game of Truth or Dare had started out innocently enough with silly questions of confessing celebrity crushes or dares involving tequila shots that led to making crank calls to Shaw and Fusco. She still chuckled at the fuzzy memory of John standing by the floor to ceiling windows mooning the passersby walking on the sidewalk several floors below. Those chuckles ended up giving way to full-fledged laughter that she could hardly contain.

"Are you still laughing at the last dare?"

Finally finding some sense of composure, she replied, "I had no idea you would actually go through with it. No more tequila for you. I think you've had enough." She pushed the bottle down to the end of the coffee table a little too hard and it would have toppled over had it not been for his faster than normal reflexes to catch it mid-fall.

"I'd say you'd definitely had enough." He gently placed the nearly empty bottle of tequila on the floor next to the table before settling back on the couch.

She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious at how at ease he was about going through with her dare. "No one can see in those windows from outside can they?"

He couldn't hide the smile that seemed to appear so easily around her. "It's... _likely_." He felt a throw pillow hit the side of his head and turned to see two glassy brown eyes glaring at him with a mixture of contempt and amusement.

"That's not fair, John. You had me crank call Shaw to ask her out!" she shouted in mock disdain, barely containing the laughter threatening to bubble out of her again.

"I didn't think she'd say yes," he laughed and was hit with another pillow.

"I'm _so_ getting you back for this," she grumbled with her arms crossed.

He placed the two pillows next to him and replied, "Looking forward to it. But now it's my turn. Truth or dare, Joss?"

She sighed and gave a dramatic roll of her eyes before glaring at him again. "Truth," she replied haughtily. She wasn't doing any more silly dares tonight. He hesitated for a bit and she couldn't figure out why. "Out with it, John."

"You and Paul."

She looked at him in confusion, not really understanding the question, if there even was one. "What about me and Paul?"

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.

It took her a moment, but it finally clicked. "Wait." She shook her head to clear the alcohol infused cobwebs from her brain. "You think... Paul and I are back together?" She was sure that both of her eyebrows had reached her hairline.

Now it was John's turn to look confused, or relieved, she couldn't tell right now because he could be so damn hard to read sometimes. "I just thought…" he began. "When I saw the two of you together at the park yesterday─"

"Paul and I are done. I'll always love him as a friend and as the father of my child, but anything romantic between us died the minute he came home from his tour in Iraq and refused to get the help he needed. He'd become a danger to Taylor, to me, and especially to himself."

She sighed and scooted closer to John and reached for his hand. She needed to make it clear to him so that he'd understand. "What you saw yesterday was a pair of old friends who grew up together, finding their friendship again to be better parents for their son. That's all it was. That's all it is. I've... moved on..."

She let her last sentence trail off before she said something either of them may not have been ready for. He looked at her and she could see that he had accepted her answer. He looked somewhat relieved as if that was the answer he had been looking for. He'd asked her once before if she ever thought about moving on and she had, or at least she tried to when she had started dating Cal Beecher. But what she hadn't admitted, to John or herself, was that she had thought about moving on with him.

It had been there for a while now, lurking in the background. The attraction, the deeper than platonic feelings. She didn't know exactly when it happened, but she knew it when she saw him getting beaten at Riker's. She knew it when she saw him in that bomb vest. She knew it when he was the first person she called when she was at the end of her rope with HR. Her feelings for him ran deep and had been for a long time.

"What about you, John?" She smiled. "I remember asking you this question before, but I never got an answer. You ever think about moving on?"

He held on tighter to her hand. "Yes, I've thought about it. And I have... moved on." He continued to hold her gaze, but with those words he could feel her hesitation. She slowly slid her hand out of his and sat back on the couch to give them a bit of distance. He felt himself getting frustrated. It seemed like every time they let down another wall or stepped outside of her comfort zone, she'd pull back or hesitate.

"Truth or dare, John?" she asked, bringing him out of his brooding.

"What?"

She smiled. "It's my turn now. Truth or dare?"

He smirked. Of course she'd drag them kicking and screaming from how they felt about each other and bring them back to the game. He wondered what 'safe' question she'd come up with. "Truth."

"What was your closest call?"

"Closest call?"

"Yeah. To losing your life. You always seem to walk that dangerous line between life and death. You damn near dance with death like it's a game. Tell me about one of your closest times."

He pulled the collar of his shirt to reveal a pale scar below his shoulder. "Hezbollah insurgent. Two more inches to the left, it would have cut right through my auxiliary artery," he said with pride; as if it was just a walk in the park instead of a near death experience. "What about you, Joss? You got any war wounds?"

She smiled and slowly lifted the hem of her floral tank to reveal a large, round scar on the right side of her abdomen. "Fallujah. 300 pound gorilla of a Marine escorting me. One minute we're walking on patrol, and the next I hear a click."

"Land mine?"

She nodded. "Guy looked right into my eyes… and he was dust. I never saw it coming." She looked off to the other side of the room, not really looking at anything in particular. "When your time is up, it's up."

"Close call."

"Yeah." She turned back to look at him.

"Was that your closest?" John asked.

She shook her head and gestured to a scar beneath her naval still concealed by her clothing. "13 stitches."

"How'd the other guy fair?" he asked with a smirk, anticipating the story she would soon share.

"Touch and go for a while." She smiled at his raised eyebrow and knew she needed to explain. "It─ it was a C-section. Taylor was breech. Doctors weren't sure he was gonna make it or not. They had to rush me into surgery. It was the worst moment of my life, followed by the best." She sat up and looked him in the eyes, wanting to get an honest answer out of him. "What about you, John?" She reached out to touch the area where he pointed out what had to be one of many scars. The fabric of his shirt underneath her fingertips was softer than she originally thought. "I know this was one of your close calls. What was your _closest_ call?"

He reached up to hold her hand there and moved it down towards his heart. He held it there for a moment before he placed her hand back in her lap and let go. She watched him reach into his pocket and remove a bullet and held it up for her to see.

She knew whatever it was he was about to tell her, she needed to tread carefully. He was about to share something with her that he probably hadn't told anyone. She opened her heart and her ears and hoped he could see that she was there for him.

"That's got somebody's name on it?" Joss asked.

He stared at the bullet for a moment before he answered, "Mine." He turned back to her and looked in her eyes. She could see so much in his eyes. The guilt, regret, and most of all the vulnerability. "There was a time I thought about saying goodbye. I lost someone. Lost myself."

She suddenly remembered New Rochelle. Jessica's murder. The murder of her husband. The picture she found of John and Jessica together during their younger years. How far down he'd gotten the very first night she met him as a bum in the precinct. If he had gotten so low, that he contemplated suicide then... "What happened? What stopped you?"

"I got in a fight with some punks on a subway. Cop detained me." He reached out his hand and it shook a bit before it rested on the side of her face. "He brought me to you." She reached up to hold his wrist to steady him. His hands were no longer shaking and she leaned into his palm while she lost herself in his gaze. "You changed my mind, Joss. You changed me."

John threw caution to the wind and leaned in to kiss her. It's what he had wanted for so long and he hoped that she wouldn't reject him. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and he inched closer, giving her a chance to stop him, to turn away. She didn't.

Just as he was about to press his lips against hers he heard ringing. It couldn't have been his cell phone. He had purposely turned his phone off. Joss' eyes fluttered open and she quickly sat back, as if she had been broken out of a spell.

"That's... that's my phone. I should um... answer that." She practically leapt from the couch to go dig her phone from her purse. Looking at the caller ID she saw that it was an unknown number. "Carter," she answered, cringing at how breathless she sounded.

"Detective Carter, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I needed to speak to Mr. Reese. His phone was off," Finch sheepishly explained.

"Yeah... um... just hang on a sec." She walked back over to the couch and handed the phone to John. "It's for you. It's Finch."

John couldn't hide his irritation or his disappointment at the abrupt change of events. "Yeah, Finch?"

Joss knew that it was time to leave. As much as she wanted to stay here, she knew she needed to go. They were about to cross a line they could not uncross. They were about to step outside of her comfort zone and explore the unknown. Deep down she knew that this was what she wanted. She wanted to be with him and open up to him. She wanted him to open up to her just like he had, but was it worth it? She needed space to think things through and right now, Finch presented the perfect way out. She wasn't running away. Duty calls and John needed to go. She watched him end the call with Finch.

"New number?" she asked, well aware of the machine and how it worked. She'd talked to Finch before about her speculation on where and how they got their information. She hadn't expected to be spot on about her theory, but the look of surprise on Finch's face let her know that she had hit the nail squarely on the head.

"Yep," he answered, still very much annoyed. He gave her back her phone.

"Do you need any help?" Joss asked, thankful for the shift in focus. The less they focused on the two of them and more on someone that they can help, the better.

"Not right now, but I'm going to be out of town for a couple days. Looks like Shaw and I are going to the Hamptons."

"Who's the new number? Some wealthy socialite?" she joked.

"I don't think so. From what Finch told me, she's supposed to be dead. But as you know, some people can't stay dead."

"Who is she? Maybe I can pull her file tomorrow at the precinct."

"Her name is Amanda Clarke."

"Okay. I'll look into it and let you know what I find... I should probably go. You need to get packed." She began to walk towards the door, her quick steps betraying her heart and its need to stay with John at his place. She was nearly out of the door when she felt a hand on her waist, stopping her from leaving.

"Joss, wait. You don't have to rush out of here." He looked at her, his eyes nearly pleading for her to stay. And damn it, if she didn't really want to. She almost changed her mind. Almost.

"It's getting late. We both have an early and long day ahead of us. I'll call you tomorrow to let you know what I find."

"Joss..."

"Thanks for dinner. The game was fun. Goodnight, John." She gave his hand a quick squeeze before she walked out of his apartment. She refused to look back as she walked down the hall and waited for the elevator.

She knew he was watching her. She felt his eyes on her as he continued to watch her until the elevator doors finally opened and she walked inside the elevator car. She hadn't realized that she was holding her breath until she released it when the doors closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I know it was blasphemous to interrupt "THE KISS" but there's a method to my madness... I think. You have to know the song to know why it didn't happen here. :)


	4. Wednesday, You Went Away

**Five days ago**

_Wednesday, you went away_

John walked into the living room and cleared the beer bottles, shot glasses, and margarita glasses from the coffee table. After putting the glasses in the dishwasher, he placed the empty bottles into the recycle bin and released a frustrated sigh. _Tonight was going so well..._ He mentally cursed Finch for the interruption. _Surely he could have waited until tomorrow._ But Finch wanted John and Shaw to head out to his cottage in the Hamptons first thing in the morning.

John replayed the night's events over and over in his mind. Yeah, things got a little silly with the truth or dare, prompted by the consumption of courage juice called tequila, but he thought they had covered a lot of ground with the truth portion of the game. He had finally found the nerve to tell her how he felt. He hadn't meant to scare her off and that was exactly what he had done. She ran out of the apartment like it was on fire. The only thing on fire was his libido.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and searched for some aspirin to combat the headache he knew he would have in the morning, when he heard a knock on his door. _Who in the hell could be here at this time of night,_ he wondered. He placed the water bottle on the counter and left the kitchen to answer the door. When he saw who it was on the other side, he couldn't have been happier.

John stared at Joss for what seemed like an eternity, but was only about a minute. She looked hesitant about her decision to come back, the fear that he would reject her storming in her eyes. Before she could utter a word of apology or explanation─ or worse, run away again─ he pulled her flush against his body and kissed her like he had wanted to for so long.

Her lips were soft and full and the kiss they shared was light and tender─ a start, but not an end. Pulling her with him he walked backwards into his apartment and quickly shut the door before pushing her against it. That's when he saw it. The lust, the want, the need. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He leaned in to kiss her again with more urgency and intensity than before. His hands gripped her hips and her hands ran up his chest to rest on his shoulders. He licked her bottom lip, encouraging her to allow him in to deepen the kiss, and she obliged. He greedily took in the taste of her as their tongues engaged in a sensual dance. She gave and he took, he gave and she took.

He pressed his body into hers, letting her feel what she was doing to him. She moaned, pulling him closer and tilted her hips against him to bring her core against his erection, now straining against his jeans. She kissed him roughly as she reached past his shoulders and ran her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Urged by her moans, he dropped his hands, reaching for her round plush backside. It was something he had wanted to do earlier when she arrived wearing the same jeans that hugged and accentuated every curve. He savored the softness and gave it a light squeeze. He was going to love gripping it tightly when she was on top of him, plunging down onto him over and over until he exploded inside of her.

He needed her naked. Now. He swiftly lifted her petite body and she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to him tightly as he led them to his bed. She drew away from his mouth and moved to his neck, kissing, licking, and nipping her way to the hollow of his throat. He moaned at her ministrations, his want for her nearly making him lose his mind.

Gently, he placed her on the bed before settling between her legs on top of her. He hungrily went in for another kiss, never getting enough of her. He slowly broke the kiss and gazed deeply into her large and expressive brown eyes.

"Joss... I want you... so much," he whispered.

"I want you too," she replied, caressing the side of his face.

"Are you sure?" he asked. He reached up to hold her wrist, keeping her hand to his face; mirroring what she had done to him earlier that night. He was giving her an out, a chance to change her mind. The last thing he wanted was for her to regret this.

She nodded her head slowly before her eyes fluttered closed, silently giving her consent.

He softly trailed a finger down her cheekbone to her chin, back up to trace her lips. He loved everything about her, but he especially loved her lips. He leaned down for another taste and slowly kissed her. As much as he wanted to make love to her right now, he also wanted to cherish this moment with her. He wanted to commit being here with her to memory.

He moved down to nibble her earlobe while he ran his fingers through her thick, dark hair. She wrapped her arms around him in a deep embrace, and he took in the scent of her; the soft floral fragrance of jasmine that would stay behind with him long after she left his presence. He moved slowly from her ear down the long line of her delicate neck, nibbling lightly and savoring the unique flavor of her skin.

She moaned. "Don't stop."

He continued to make his way down her body, kissing from her neck to her collarbone, moving further down until he reached the top of her breasts, still confined by her bra and yellow top. He went further still, running the tip of his tongue across the deep line of her cleavage, causing her to thrust her hips upward, wanting more than his teasing.

"John... more," she pleaded, nearly breathless.

He didn't think nor did he stop to hesitate. He reached for the hem of her shirt and began to tug it upwards. She lifted slightly so that he could lift it over her head, carelessly tossing it aside. All he cared about was touching her, holding her, tasting her, and teasing her until she begged.

With another deep kiss, he swallowed her whimpers when he slid his hand across the black fabric of the bra covering her breasts. He pulled the cups of her bra down to release her soft mounds from their confinement. He pushed up slightly and took a moment to take her in. She had never looked more exquisite than she had at that moment.

There was a warm flush reddening her honey toned skin. Her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back against the mattress. Her hair was slightly tangled as it fell across the bed, framing her face. Her lips, slightly swollen and wet from his kisses, were parted as she lightly panted with want. His eyes continued to travel downward to her exposed breasts, full and supple with dark puckered nipples that begged to be tasted.

He wondered if they would be as sweet as they looked. When he covered one of the taut tips with his mouth, he got his answer. He sucked quick and hard and she gasped from the pleasure she was receiving. She grabbed him by the head, the tips of her nails scratching his scalp. She held him there, not wanting him to take his attentions away from her body, and squeezed her legs tighter around his waist, lifting her hips once more.

He groaned at the contact and knew that if she continued her actions, he wouldn't get the full taste of her that he wanted because he'd have to be inside her immediately. He was already so far gone right now. He moved on to the other nipple, giving it equal attention while he reached down to unfasten her jeans to peel them off. It felt like liquid fire was running through his veins as she continued to moan, sigh, and breathlessly call out his name.

He lifted up once more for another taste of her lips. The kiss was deep and hot. She reached for the bottom of his shirt and pulled it from his jeans. With his help, she finally pulled it over his head and they both relished the feel of skin on skin.

He worked his way back down her body, kissing from her lips to her neck, giving more attention to her breasts before moving down her torso. He began to tug on her jeans when he heard a ringing sound.

"The phone... John," she moaned as he kissed her below her belly button. "It-it's the phone."

"Let it ring," he replied with slight annoyance while his focus was on getting her out of those jeans. There was no way he was going to let another phone call interrupt them─ especially not now.

But it seemed like fate wasn't on his side tonight. The ringing was persistent and unrelenting, getting louder and louder. The louder the ring, the blurrier his vision became. Joss, who was once a vivid and warm-bodied woman beneath him, was now just a mirage. Something he wanted badly, but could not hold or touch.

"No," he begged, but it was no use. The image of her had soon faded away and there was nothing left but the sheets of his bed wrapped around him.

Not only did he wake up with a terrible headache, he also had an unbelievably uncomfortable erection that would not go down. He groaned in frustration and slammed his hand down on the ringing alarm clock.

What he needed now was a cold shower, a couple aspirin, and a tall cup of coffee to get through this day.

* * *

John adjusted his sunglasses and slumped down further into the passenger seat. He was slightly hung over from all the tequila he consumed last night and had no problem with letting Shaw drive since she usually wanted to anyway. They'd been on the road for a little over an hour now and were headed to meet Finch at one of his many properties, a cottage in the Hamptons. Finch had already gone out by private helicopter the night before and would be meeting them there. John wondered why he hadn't gone with Finch instead of suffering in this car ride with Shaw. Once John and Shaw arrived, they would go through their usual briefing on their new number, Amanda Clarke.

"You're awfully quiet this morning, John. Bad night?" Shaw asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

Declining to answer, he took a sip of his coffee and immediately regretted not purchasing a larger size.

"Yep," she snorted. "It must have been a bad night if Joss called me in the middle of your date to ask _me_ out."

John managed to suppress the smirk forming on his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She briefly took her eyes off the road to toss an incredulous look his way. "Sure you don't." She turned her attention back on the road. "That's why you're in such a shitty mood, right? She left you hanging last night and left you hung over this morning."

"I'm not hung over. It's just really bright in here," he deadpanned, repeating her words from yesterday morning.

"That's really cute, John. The difference between me and you, is that I actually got laid the night before. You? Not so much." John freely rolled his eyes behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. "You're entirely too tense and pissed off. If you two had finally slept together instead of pussyfooting around it _as usual_ , I'm sure you would be in a much lighter mood, singing Barry Manilow songs."

"Aren't you a little young for Barry Manilow?" he joked, desperately wanting this conversation to change if it wasn't going to end.

"Aren't you too old to carry on like a high school kid with his first crush and not _do_ anything about it?" she shot back.

John took another sip of his coffee and silence settled between them once again. After a moment or two, he finally responded. "Touché."

He flipped on the radio and turned the dial to find a sports radio station. For the next two hours of the trip, John was lost in thoughts of Joss while sports commentators nattered on in the background.

* * *

"You okay there partner?" Fusco asked Joss, who looked tired and a little green.

"It's just a headache, Fusco. It'll pass," she lied, hoping he'd end it there.

"You should probably drink Gatorade and water to get over that hangover instead of coffee. I used to do that during my younger days when I first joined the academy."

She cut her eyes at him and gave him her scariest glare, the one usually reserved for suspects in interrogation. "Thanks for the advice," she replied sardonically.

"Hey, don't get snappy with me. I'm not the one who got drunk with Wonderboy and made crank calls last night," he retorted before putting on his reading glasses to focus on a case file in front of him.

 _I should have called out sick today_ , Joss thought as she sat at her desk with a headache that wouldn't quit. She knew better than to drink so heavily, but things got a little carried away last night. She told John that she had moved on, made sure he knew she was available, and almost kissed him. Well… he almost kissed her, but she was a willing participant, leaning into his gentle touch and waiting for his lips to meet hers.

She huffed in frustration. What in the hell did she think she was doing? They both had more than enough alcohol and what they shared with each other last night could have been just the alcohol talking, but she knew better. She replayed his words over and over in her mind.

_You changed my mind, Joss. You changed me._

God help her; it was as close to a declaration of love as he was comfortable with giving and it excited her and scared her at the same time. He shared the same feelings as she and if they had not been interrupted by Finch's phone call, there's no telling where things would have led. _To his bed_ , her thoughts nagged her.

She sighed and grimaced after taking a sip of the coffee that had grown cold since she filled her mug earlier this morning when she dragged herself into the precinct. Maybe Finch's interruption last night was for the best. It's not like starting a romantic entanglement with John was a wise thing. There were too many risks and way too many chances for heartbreak. She needed to get her act together and get on with her day. Thinking about John constantly wasn't going to magically make him appear, nor was it going to help her sort out her conflicting feelings for him. She gave herself a mental shake before she logged into her computer and pulled the electronic file on Amanda Clarke.

* * *

"I thought he said it would be a cottage?" Shaw asked as the white gates opened and she slowly drove past them to enter the property where they were to stay while working on the new number.

John smirked as he looked at the surroundings. The house had to have been worth at least $10 million or more. "Finch likes to stay modest," he jokingly replied before they pulled up in front of the house.

They both stepped out of the car and he took a moment to look at the property. The house was exquisite and he couldn't help but wish that Joss was there with him and they were on their own private getaway. He thought she'd love this place.

A Gambrel home, the house was as large as it was beautiful. The architectural style of the house was very popular among homes in the northeast, dating back as far as the colonial days of this country. It sat regally on at least three acres of land that was impeccably landscaped with trees to provide privacy, plush green grass, and bright, colorful perennials. If given time to really walk the grounds of the property, John would find a tennis court, a private garden with a gazebo, a heated pool with a guest house, and access to a private beach.

Realizing John hadn't yet followed her to the door, Shaw turned and said, "Stop daydreaming and get a move on it, John. I'm starving and I'm 100% sure this place has a fully stocked fridge."

John sighed before he followed her inside, gearing up to save another number.

* * *

Finch had already set up a work area in the living room with a board, printed articles, and pictures from his extensive research. The living room, as well as the entire home, was professionally designed in warm ivories, sandy tans, and deep browns. Numerous indoor plants were placed in each room to break up the monotony of the neutrals and provide pops of life and subtle splashes of color.

"Good morning, Mr. Reese, Miss Shaw," Finch greeted as they settled in; John with a fresh cup of coffee and Shaw with a plate full of fruit, cheese, and croissants.

"So what do we have so far?" John asked, wanting to get right down to business so that he could get back to the city and back to Joss.

"Surprisingly enough, there was quite a bit of information about Amanda Clarke and especially about her father. Amanda, born in 1984, was… or I should say _is_ , the oldest daughter of convicted terrorist David Clarke. He was convicted for laundering money for the terrorist group, Americon Initiative, through the company he worked for, Grayson Global. The money he laundered was used to fund the bombing of Flight 197."

John remembered most of the main details of the case from when that plane was bombed over twenty years ago. It was initially reported to be a plane crash due to engine failure. However, foul play was later discovered and it was determined that a bomb took down the plane. There were no survivors and even small children died on that plane.

When the trial started, it was a media circus. There were people whose careers had been launched from David Clarke's trial. TV shows, book tours, speaking engagements, even political careers had been started. After he was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison, the media had moved on to the next big story, the subsequent circus of the OJ Simpson trial. Nothing more was reported on David Clarke until news of his murder in prison hit the papers years later.

"Was or is, Finch? Which is it?" Shaw asked as she popped a piece of fruit into her mouth.

"I believe that's what we are here to find out, Miss Shaw. Since her number has come up, it appears that she may not be dead or if she is, someone may be living under her identity," Finch answered.

"Why would someone want to live under her identity in the Hamptons? This place is for the wealthy and social climbers. Neither of which would describe the daughter of a convicted terrorist," John chimed in.

Finch stood up to tape a number of photographs on the board. "The Hamptons is where she spent the early part of her childhood. It is also where she was last presumed alive before her untimely death soon after her marriage to Jack Porter. The wedding ceremony, presided by Jack's close friend Nolan Ross, was small and intimate. Close family and friends were also in attendance," he added, while taping pictures of different guests present at the wedding.

"Who are these people? If they were close to the number, maybe they know what happened to her," Shaw said while eating her final bite of croissant.

Pointing to the pictures, Finch gave a brief breakdown of the people tied to Amanda Clarke. "This is Charlotte Grayson. She's the daughter of Victoria Grayson and Conrad Grayson, former CEO of Grayson Global and former governor of New York. Apparently, Conrad Grayson wasn't her actual biological father, Daniel Clarke was. Instead of shunning her half-sister, she embraced her and obviously the relationship was close if she was present at Amanda's wedding."

"I don't know about you, but I have a million questions about this already. Didn't you say that David Clarke laundered money for the terrorists through Grayson Global? How on earth did Victoria Grayson not only have an affair with him, but conceive a child? And the Grayson family just _accepted_ Amanda Clarke? Something seems fishy here," Shaw proclaimed as she looked at the picture of Amanda and Charlotte posing together with genuine smiles.

"I agree, Miss Shaw. This will be something that we will have to detangle at the root. Thankfully, a lot of information has been chronicled on gossip sites, newspaper articles, and social media." Moving on to the next picture, Finch continued. "This is Nolan Ross, a self-proclaimed genius software inventor who started _NolCorp_ , a business that turned him into a billionaire in his twenties."

"Now, now, Finch. There's room for more than one billionaire computer genius in the Hamptons," John ribbed.

"Yes, Mr. Reese, I am aware of that," Finch replied crisply before continuing with the briefing. "Mr. Ross is friends with Jack Porter," Finch pointed to another picture of showing Jack posing with a small baby, "who is Amanda's surviving husband and the father of her young son, Carl. Jack Porter runs the Stowaway Tavern, a bar and hangout for the locals of Montauk."

"Who's the blonde?" John asked. "The one that looks like a bridesmaid. She must have been pretty close to our number. Maybe she knows something."

"This is Emily Thorne. She is the daughter of wealthy American ex-patriot parents who passed away and left behind a sizable inheritance which she used to travel the world and pay for her Ivy League education. There isn't a lot of information about her available; she seems to be very private. Per the gossip websites I've perused, she's known as a socialite who is new to the Hamptons' scene and is currently engaged to Daniel Grayson."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Shaw asked, thoroughly amused and now more than a little intrigued. It was almost like a nighttime soap opera and she was more than ready to jump in head first to see just how many secrets were being held by the some of the wealthiest and not so wealthy people inside the Hamptons' social circle. "How were they even friends?"

"I haven't quite figured that out yet, but I have a theory. I've managed to pull older articles written by reporters who interviewed Amanda before she arrived in the Hamptons. Apparently, she used to be an exotic dancer and some years before that she served a stint in a juvenile detention facility for arson. When I tried to pull background information on Emily Thorne, I couldn't find much. What I did find only dates back to 1999 at the Allenwood Correctional Facility, the same detention center where Amanda served time. Why Emily was there, I do not know, but I believe that could be where Amanda and Emily met."

"I'll call Carter to see if she can pull those sealed records. I can't put my finger on it, but everything seems to keep leading back to the Grayson family in one way or another. I remember there were conspiracy theorists who said that David Clarke was just a patsy and was really framed for his crime. To be honest, he probably was," John said, thinking of his work in the CIA. There were plenty of missions he and Kara went on where they had to make their crimes look like someone else did it.

"So you think Amanda Clarke didn't believe her father really did it? You think she came back to the Hamptons to what─ find out if her father was truly innocent?" Shaw asked.

"It's not outside the realm of possibility, Shaw. Think about who we used to work for," John replied as leveled a knowing look at Shaw.

"Point taken," she replied with a casual shrug. "If Amanda did find out something, maybe she found out too much. Do we know how she died?" Shaw asked.

"Reports say that while she and Jack Porter were sailing to their honeymoon destination, there was a accident, an explosion due to a faulty propane tank," Harold answered.

"So what's the plan?" John asked.

"Mr. Porter recently posted a listing online looking for a new bartender at the Stowaway. Miss Shaw, I need you to get that job and learn as much as you can about Jack Porter. If anyone knows more than what we've learned about Amanda Clarke, he would be the best person to ask," Finch said.

"I'll come up with something," Shaw confidently remarked.

"Mr. Reese, your job is to follow Miss Emily Thorne. Find out as much as you can about her. She seems to be a bit of a mystery, and I want to know what her motivations would be in regards to her relationship with the Graysons and her friendship with Amanda Clarke."

"Sounds good. What will you be doing, Finch?" John asked.

"It will be easier for me to infiltrate on the… _wealthier_ participants of this case, so I have arranged a meeting with Conrad Grayson. I will be meeting him and his son, Daniel Grayson, today as a potential investor and discuss my options with them over lunch at the South Fork Inn," Finch answered. "Let's all meet back here this evening to go over what we've found."

* * *

John sat on the beach and pretended to be just another visitor soaking up the sun when he was really keeping an eye on Emily Thorne. So far, there hadn't been much activity. Her walk to the beach was her first trip outside of her home. He had a feeling she knew she was being watched, but he had been extremely careful and he knew he hadn't given himself away. The fact that a socialite, engaged to one of the most eligible bachelors hailed from one of the wealthiest families in the Hamptons, was so hyper-aware gave him pause. He wondered what her real story was and wondered about her connection to the number.

He gave Joss a call to see what she had found. She answered after two rings. "Carter."

"Joss, did you get a chance to pull the file on Amanda Clarke?" John asked getting right to business. He really wanted to talk to her about what happened last night, but he knew that now wasn't the time and he feared she would shut him out anyway.

"Yeah, I did. Just what in the world are you guys getting into? I see she's been in the system, but when I tried to access her sealed juvenile files, I wasn't able to get much information about her time at Allenwood Correctional Facility. A lot of information was redacted. I tried calling Warden Stiles, but got stonewalled. Couldn't get much else," she answered.

"Other than her sealed records, were you able to find out anything else?" he asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The deeper they dug into this case, the more he felt that something wasn't right. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

She sighed in exasperation. "Well, there is one thing. I can tell you without a doubt that Amanda Clarke is dead. I'm looking at her autopsy report; trauma from the boat explosion caused internal bleeding when she died. So I'm thinking whoever you're looking for is living under her identity─"

"Or the woman that was found dead wasn't really Amanda Clarke," John interrupted. "I need you to look into someone else for me," he requested, having a hunch.

"Who do you have in mind?"

"See if you can find anything on Emily Thorne. According to Finch, they were in juvie together." He watched as Emily walked back to the sandy shore after a swim in the ocean and wrapped a towel around her body. She made her way back to her house and after a few minutes, John got up and left the beach as well.

"You think this Emily Thorne person is living under Amanda's name?" Joss asked.

"No, but I have a feeling it's a bit deeper than that."

"Well, if I couldn't get any information about Amanda Clarke then I doubt I'd have much luck with Emily Thorne," she said skeptically.

"Then maybe I need to pay someone a visit," he said with a smirk, making his way back to his car and back to staking out Emily's house.

"John!" she exclaimed, before lowering her voice, "John, don't you _dare_ go to that detention facility as Marshall Jennings."

He couldn't hold back the grin that crept across his face. "I won't."

"Promise me."

"I promise I won't go to the detention facility as Marshall Jennings."

He heard her let out a relieved sigh. "Okay. I'll see what information I can get on Emily Thorne and I'll give you a call when I have something."

"Looking forward to it, Joss." _Looking forward to seeing you again, too._

"Stay outta trouble please," she said with a smile in her voice.

"I'll try." He disconnected the call with a smile of his own.

 _She didn't say not to go as Detective Stills_ , he thought. He called Finch and Shaw to update them on what he'd found on Emily Thorne─ which wasn't much─ and started the car to make his way out to the Allenwood Correctional Facility to speak with a Warden Stiles.

* * *

Shaw walked into the Stowaway Tavern and settled on a stool at the end of the bar. She had an idea of what she wanted to do in order to get closer to Jack Porter, but it was a tossup on whether it would work or not. She watched for a few moments as he served a beer to a patron and wiped down the counter before he made his way over to her. He was handsome, in a boy next door kind of way with a hardscrabble working man appeal. He gave her a warm smile and she tried her best to genuinely smile back at him.

"Welcome to Stowaway Tavern. What can I get you?" Jack asked.

 _Here goes nothing_ , Shaw thought. "I'm looking for an old friend of mine… Amanda."

She saw a look of anguish on his face before he cleared his throat and gathered his composure. The death of his wife was obviously still pretty raw. "I'm sorry. I didn't get your name," he inquired. She could hear the suspicion in his voice.

"Sorry, my name is Roxy. Amanda and I used to…" her voice trailed off as she tried to look sheepish, "… _dance_ together. Last time I spoke with her, she told me she was settling down in the Hamptons and was working as a bartender here. I was hoping to see her, catch up on good times… and maybe even see if there was another opening." She gave him her best hopeful look.

"I don't remember her ever mentioning you. When was the last time you spoke to Amanda?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, it was over a year ago I think. I stopped working at the club and lost touch with her. I've been kinda going place to place and I've made my way here. Is she around? I would love to see her."

"I'm sorry, but Amanda died nearly eight months ago."

Shaw put on her best performance as an old acquaintance who was devastated to find out that a friend was no longer alive. "Oh, no… I never… I never knew." She willed tears to well up in her eyes. "How'd she die?"

"Boating accident… we were on our way to our honeymoon and…" his voice trailed off as he began to get a little choked up.

"Are you Jack?" she asked, already knowing who he was.

"Yes. I'm Jack Porter."

"I remember her mentioning a guy named Jack. She seemed to really dig you. I'm just happy to know that she was happy with you, even though things ended in such a tragic way." She sighed and stood from the barstool. "I'm sorry to have burdened you with my questions about her. I was just hoping to see an old friend." She slowly made her way towards the door when Jack called out to her.

"Roxy wait."

 _Got him_. She turned around to look at him with hopeful eyes. "Yeah?"

"We are looking for a new bartender. Do you have any experience?"

"I was a waitress and tended bar at a few of my old jobs, yeah," she easily lied.

"Well, I guess you're hired. Any friend of Amanda's is a friend of mine," he said with a watery smile.

Shaw almost felt bad for the guy. Almost. Now that she was in, she needed to dig deeper and find out more about his relationship with Amanda. She gave him her brightest smile. "Great! I can start right now."

* * *

Finch made it back from his lunch with Daniel and Conrad Grayson and couldn't feel more than a little disgusted with both men. They were the type of wealthy people that were rightfully demonized by the activists on Wall Street. The sense of entitlement and privilege reeking from them both made him question why Amanda ever associated with them to begin with. It was obvious that when they publicly embraced her, it was all for PR purposes. Neither of the Grayson men struck him as being the generous and charitable type, unless something was in it for them.

Finch hadn't learned much else, but he did get an invitation to tomorrow's polo match to see Daniel compete. He didn't really care to go, but this was an opportunity for him, John, and Shaw to find out more about these people and their connection to Amanda. He arranged more photographs and information about Amanda and the people who surrounded her case on the board. John was currently on his way back from the Allenwood Correctional Facility and Shaw should be ending her shift at the bar in another thirty minutes. The only thing he could do right now, was research more online and wait for their return.

* * *

John sat in the car and waited, declining to answer yet another phone call from Joss. He knew she wouldn't have anything new for him and he didn't want to inadvertently reveal to her that he'd gone to the detention center against her wishes. He wouldn't be surprised if she had found out about it already.

The moment he walked out of Allenwood, John knew something was up. The warden, Sharon Stiles was certainly tight-lipped and she wouldn't budge on providing any information on Amanda Clarke or Emily Thorne. He checked the time on his watch. She'd be leaving soon and he had no problem with breaking into her office and pulling the files he needed to see exactly what she had to hide.

John waited for night to fall before he made his move. In no time, he was walking back to his car with the files he needed. The bombshell he found inside those files was too big to reveal over the phone. He returned to the "cottage" about two hours later to find Finch and Shaw working among themselves in the living room of the vacation home.

"Sorry I didn't call, but what I found needs to be shown, not told," John remarked, placing two manila folders on the coffee table.

"What could you have possibly found that had to wait two hours?" Shaw asked bitterly. She was more than a little frustrated because she had gotten nowhere with Jack Porter while John seemed to have made a break in the mystery and he didn't even do what he was assigned to.

"Open those folders and see for yourself."

Finch opened both folders and looked through the papers and stopped when he got to the pictures. "Mr. Reese, I think there must be some mistake. Did the pictures fall out of the folders when you took these?"

"No. I had a hunch, and I was right," John answered.

"And that hunch was what?" Shaw asked John, looking over Finch's shoulder to read the contents of the files.

"Amanda Clarke isn't dead. Emily Thorne is Amanda Clarke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was enjoyable. To those of you familiar with Revenge, you'll know I took a few liberties with some of the information provided. However, for those of you who have never watched the nighttime soap, I hope you got the gist of these characters and still have interest in this story. I promise it's not getting derailed. It will circle back to our favorite couple. :o)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or Revenge. This fic is for entertainment purposes only.


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